Underdog
by murasaki888
Summary: Maybe "The Boy Who Lived" had a better ring that "She Lived Too". And he certainly was "destined for greatness". She was content to witness such though, not from the start. Starts in the Sorceror's Stone. OC. Please read and review!


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its canon characters, setting, etc. are the property of J.K Rowling, and are not my intellectual property. No copyright infringement intended.**

It was a pleasant dream Lillian was having, one where she was again a fat infant, toddling around with many cheerful voices at her side. Her belly brushed against the cushions as she made one triumphant roll to the other end of the couch. Her leg poked amiably against someone; he giggled and fell back. She couldn't piece together what was so humorous, but her attention diverted once more to a sudden hushed silence of the room. The scene was swift, she couldn't catch up with the passing time and frantic whispers. A low groan came from downstairs, and whoever she kicked was pulled away to his crib. In the distant corner of her mind, she thought 'He's too big for that now...'

Her mum was whispering comfortingly to him through the bars; he didn't understand, and the words faded as soon as they came. Her own cheek was pinched and kissed. She squirmed, residing to a corner, hiding her face in the soft plush of the canopy and didn't lift once. Not even to see a demonic figure enter their room. Not even when she heard desperate pleas for their safety. Or the sound of her mother screaming in agony as it cursed "AVADA KA-"

Sharp green eyes flashed wide open, and she shuddered in the dark, cramped space. Her arm was stuck under a dull warm weight and she turned her head to register Harry's profile even in the dim light emitted through the crack of the door. It appeared he was in the midst of a dream too, for his breathes were slow and even, his jaw looser than it usually was, and his fingers were warm against her palm. It was a cozy sight, but alas, too close for her liking. Her arm was numb from being crushed under his waist, and she was starting to sweat under the blankets. Harry had petitioned to have more than one just last week, as the chilly winds were settling in. Surely, one limp rag of a blanket wouldn't do. It wasn't as if two were any better, but she was feeling too indifferent to object. Personally, it would have been much more effective to just snatch a thick from the closet-no one checks inside their cupboard-room anyways-and there were definitely places to hide it should that time come, be in or around the house. 'But he's never keen on plans like that..' she rolled her eyes, sighing. She immediately hushed up hearing him quietly stir and shift on the bed.

She was just about to doze off once more until sharp raps against their withering cupboard ended the silence.

"Up, wake up!", an equally sharp voice rang firmly from the outside and she groaned, Aunt Petunia was never one for sympathy, even on unholy hours of the morning. Then, footsteps were heard leaving into the kitchen. Harry finally opened his eyes and sleepily reached over to pull the light switch. His shoulders slumped dejectedly as he slipped on his glasses, unusually quiet. Only when he felt a tap on his shoulder did he turned to nod at Lillian in greeting.

"..Morning Lil'.", he gave a small smile at his sister, ruffling her curly red hair. He snickered, tugging one ringlet teasingly as she tried pulling away.

"You looked rather disappointed earlier.", she pointed out bluntly when he acquiesced. He frowned and turned, seeing her crawl around in search for a sweater to put over her nightshirt.

"Well, you can't really expect me to be jolly this early in the morning.", he shrugged dismissively, buttoning up his oversized hand-me-down from Dudley.

Speaking of Dudley, he decided it was the perfect time to send the morning salutations.

By thumping up and down the damn stairs.

"Wake up Harry, Lily! It's my birthday-so hurry!", their cousin shouted gleefully, giving one last generous jump before rushing down the stairs, conveniently shoving Harry back inside the cupboard, door slamming shut.

"Christ, I thought we were getting caved in.", Lillian snorted, combing the last few strands of her unruly hair out. Harry shook his head and pushed up, using her shoulder as a leverage, smiling again when he caught glimpse of her scowl.

Their aunt's footsteps were heard echoing from the floorboards.

"And just how long do you plan on remaining there?!", Aunt Petunia screeched again, juggling the knob impatiently. "I need work on the bacon and coffee."

"Until we rot.", came Lillian's irritated reply as she tightened the knot for her cargos with a spare rubber band.

"What you say?"

She cursed when the brittle string snapped.

"I'll get the bacon, Aunt Petunia.", Harry replied, hastily re-tying the band and pushed his way into the hall. He nods to his aunt who briskly handed him a frying pan, pointing to the stove.

"Don't burn it.", she warned dangerously to which he could only swallow in response.

Lillian entered the room a few minutes after, still wearied and unkempt. Her brother shot her a disapproving look and nodded towards the coffee-brewer.

"Make a cup for Uncle, the usual. Over there, go, hurry up.", Harry whispered, nudging her shoulder with one free hand, the other preoccupied with adding a dollop of cold cream cheese onto the bacon. 'Just the way Duddy likes it' he shook his head, mimicking Petunia's gushing words of affection.

Lillian sighed and punched in a few buttons to get Uncle Dursley's morning cup ready. Her stomach growled as she caught the scent of sizzling, thick english bacon. Cream cheese or not, that stuff was mouth-watering. She quietly poured the coffee into the waiting cup, silently praying her uncle to ignore her as long as possible.

"That took too long, girl. Quit dallying already", he grunted, snapping the morning paper back stiffly.

Wishes can't always come true. Knowing that did hurt; especially after seeing Harry slide those delicious cuts of bacon down Dudley's plate. If only he could spare her a nice strip-

"36."

Both Harry and she looked up, puzzled by Dudley's faint words. Their cousin was glaring down at the floor in the middle of his mass of presents, which came in all different sizes and shapes. His neck was flushed and his position was hunched, almost ready...

"Ah yes dear..", Aunt Petunia replied delicately, her fingers clamped tightly together in curious anticipation.

"That's two less than last year." Oh no..This could only mean one thing.

Lillian quickly sat the kettle down on the counter and pulled up a chair.

Harry realizing the possible tantrum fest, squeezed beside her on the seat. He pulled the breakfast plate closer. Even Uncle Dursley was fidgeting across the table.

Petunia parted her lips, and spoke with the most frightened gentleness Lillian had ever seen from her aunt. "Now you see Duddy dearest..there's still one more from Auntie Marge-"

"That's still one less-", Dudely rudely interjected.

"And the other two presents for today, how's that popkin?"

It seemed that all past experiences with Dudley and his "outbursts" (according to the Dursleys) are finally paying off. Harry leaned back in his chair in clear relief before taking the opportunity to dig in his breakfast.

"Nice save.", Lillian remarked, taking a bite out of her sausage. Bliss. Aunt Petunia wasn't always remotely agreeable, but golly, did she make good food.

And that was how it was, in 4 Privet Drive, shortly before even whispers of fantasy were introduced.

 **Please share any constructive criticism you like. I have no professional writing/storytelling experience and I just want to improve as much as I can.**


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